


Everything Will Be Alright

by treasure (hookedswan)



Series: Anastasia Viktorovna Katsuki-Nikiforova [2]
Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Explicit Language, Future Fic, High School, Immigration & Emigration, Kid Fic, Language, M/M, School
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-10
Updated: 2018-05-10
Packaged: 2019-05-04 16:27:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,494
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14597025
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hookedswan/pseuds/treasure
Summary: Anastasia Viktorovna Katsuki-Nikiforova's first day of school in America.Sequel to my work "Izmeneniye"(Viktuuri immigrates to America with their 14 year old daughter)





	Everything Will Be Alright

**Author's Note:**

> Note - Parts of Ukraine speak Russian. The city that Magda's mother is mentioned to be from is in a Russia hot spot.

“Nastyen’ka! They came!” Viktor shouted from the foyer of their house. It was early August, shortly after Anastasia Viktorovna’s fifteenth birthday. Anastasia was lounging on the couch with a bowl of seaweed chips in her lap, watching some Russian film. It was a hot day, around 92 degrees, and the AC was blasting. “Papochka! It’s hot, shut the door!” She complained around a mouth full of chips. “Oh, right!” Viktor turned and shut their front door. Anastasia sighed.

“What came in the mail?” She shoved another chip into her mouth. “Your class selection sheet! You get to _pick_ your classes here!” Viktor placed the  packet of papers onto the glass coffee table, kneeling on the floor next to it and opening it up. “Ok, so, there’s a Program of Studies, a Student Handbook, the actual class selection sheet, and info about a teacher that helps kids with English as a second language.   


Viktor passes the program of studies over to Anastasia. “Here, look over this and then you an Tou-San can work on selecting classes,” he grabs the papers about the ESL teacher  and passes it to Anastasia. The papers are in Russian, likely a translation of their original content. Viktor and Anastasia look over the papers for a while, reading them.   


L ater in the day, Yuuri came home from the ice rink they recently bought. “I’m home! Reina’s really nailing down her free skate. She’s a gem, real talented for a nine year old.” Yuuri spoke as Anastasia came down from her bedroom. “ Zdravstvuyte,” Anastasia greeted and hugged her father, “My class stuff came in the mail. You have to help me choose my classes.”   


Yuuri hung his hoodie on the coat rack, “yeah, of course, baby. We can look tomorrow. I’m just really hungry now. It’s like, what, seven?”   


Anastasia nodded. “Papa made some  okroshka earlier. It was really good , you need to have some.”   


Y uuri kicked his sneakers off and walked out to the large room. He opened the fridge and spoke, “I called your school today. You’re getting a tour  Tuesday . It’s a nice school, too. Has a nice online program for when we travel.”  He poured some okroshka into a glass bowl and grabbed a spoon. “I’m nervous,” Anastasia picked at her black acrylics.   


“I would be, too. A new school in a new country. Your English is getting good, so I wouldn’t be too worried.” Yuuri sat down in a red chair at the table. “Where’s Papa?”   


“I think he’s in the shower.” Anastasia sat down across from her dad.   


“Ah,” Yuuri nodded, “how about you go grab those papers and we can start now.” Anastasia walked over the living room table and grabbed the pages. “ _Vot_.” _Here_.  


Yuuri read over the program of studies. “There’s a French  class, that’s an easy A,” he murmured while reading.   


 

The next day, a Monday, Anastasia woke up around six. The entire day was spent training at The Sal’khov Ice Rink that her parents had bought about a month back.  That night, Anastasia took a hot bath to sooth her sore muscles.

 

Tuesday rolled around and Anastasia dressed in denim capris and a designer t-shirt. “Nastyen’ka!” Viktor called from downstairs. She trotted down the stairs,  tying her platinum blond hair up into a ponytail as she went. “Coming!”  


She climbed into her parents’ Rolls Royce and buckled her seat belt, pulling out her iPhone.   


_**To:** Leonie Giacometti _

what did your parents say about moving to america))  


_**From:**_ _Leonie Giacometti_

can’t decide between Paris and America. (sigh)  


_**To:**_ _Leonie Giacometti_

paris sucks. too many people. come to miami)))  


_**From:** Leonie Giacometti _

believe me, i know. there are rats like everywhere.  t hey said they are also considering  belgium! 

i’d rather just stay in marseille then go to belgium.   


_**To:** Leonie Giacometti  _

yuck. i’m getting a tour of my new school today, i’ll facetime you later or something))

 

Once they arrived at the school,  they went inside.  There was a black woman with long dark locked falling to her waist waiting for them. She was in a button up, pencil skirt, and Louboutin heels. “Hi, there! You must be The Katsuki-Nikiforovs! I’m Della Allison, I’m the ESL teacher. This is the principal, Leo Washington, and this is the guidance councilor, Yvonne Bowen.” She motioned to the two people next to her. Mr. Washington was a short east Asian man with a beer gut and too many rings. Miss Bowen, also a black woman, spoke, “I hope you will enjoy your high school experience here in our school. I know the move from Russia must have been hard, but that is what Miss Allison and I are here for. We want you to know that you’re not alone. There are other ESL students that you will be able to become friends with. For example, there’s a young man joining our school this fall from  _ Brazil _ !”  


Anastasia nodded, soaking up the info. In her opinion, Miss Bowen came on way too  st rong, assuming that all of Anastasia’s friends would have to be immigrants  just because she herself was one. Mr. Washington began talking about the different sports and programs offered, but Anastasia didn’t listen.   


“Let’s begin our tour.” Miss Allison cut the principal off in the middle of his tangent about spring sports. The school was massive, with a large gym, cafeteria, and auditorium. She was shown the office, then the guidance office, then the library. They took a turn and Miss Allison pointed out the art room, the nurse’s office, the music room, and the a staircase that lead downstairs. They continued on the top floor, where Anastasia was shown bathrooms, science rooms, English rooms, math rooms and then they took a back staircase to the end of the bottom floor hallway.  


“Here are our history rooms, our language classes, here’s the ESL room, the French room, the Spanish room, and the German room.” Miss Allison went on and on about the different languages. They went up the previously mentioned stair case and walked through the cafeteria, leading back to the foyer.  


“You have a lovely school, and I’m so excited for our dearest Anastasia to attend,” Viktor smiled with his hands resting on his daughter’s shoulders, “ I actually brought the papers you need. We filled them all out.” He passed the class selection sheet and a few other sheets to the guidance councilor. “Ah, thank you Mr. Katsuki.” She smiled.  


The tour took longer than expected, so instead of stopping for lunch, the small family stopped for dinner at a restaurant near the beach.   


“So, did you like the school, _ maya pteechka _ ?” Viktor swallowed the salmon. “ _ Da,  papochka. _ ” Anastasia nodded.  


“ I’ll bring you school shopping Sunday after practice. I saw these backpacks at Polo last week and I think you’d like them.” Viktor took a sip of water.   


The conversation was dry and boring for the entirety of the meal. Anastasia pulled her phone out and texted Leonie, mostly about how boring her day was and how annoying the school’s staff was. They payed for their meals and wen t home, going to bed.

 

 

September 5 th approached quick. Anastasia was ready, having prepared all sorts of outfits and hairstyles for the first few weeks of school. She woke up to her Tou-San shaking her gently at six. She took a hot shower and blow dried her hair, leaving it wavy. The summer was over, and it was very bittersweet. Anastasia spent the summer lounging on beaches and by poolsides in designer bikinis. She tried all sorts of foreign foods, from sabich and tassot to  tteok-bokki and japchae. She went to music festivals and saw movies, she went to spas and to zoos. On the flip side, she’d finally get to meet new people and make friends that didn’t only see her at competitions.   


She entered the car and took a deep breath,  _ vsye budyet v poryadkye _ .  


_ Everything will be alright  
_

 

They showed up a little late, so she went straight to her first class, English. She sat at a random de s k around the front left side of the classroom  while the teacher sat down and began to take attendance. The board had her name scribbled on it in messy hand writing with a message under it.  _ Welcome back to English 9! I hope to have a great year!  
_

“Hello? Is Anastasia Kastuki-Nikiforova not here?” She spoke, snapping Anastasia out of her daze. “Oi! Um, yes, I’m here. And it’s  _ Katsuki _ , not Kastuki,” she laughed awkwardly.  


The teacher sighed and kept going. A tan girl with straight black hair leaned over to her and whispered, “that’s a cool accent, where’s it from?” She smiled. The girl had extremely white teeth and long eyelashes. Her skin was so clear it made Anastasia jealous. “Um, I’m from Russia, but I’m half Japanese. So, my accent is kind of both.”  


“That’s cool. I’m from here, but my dad is from Cuba. I’m Camilla. You’re Anastasia?”  


Anastasia nodded. The teacher finished attendance and began typing on her computer. The class began speaking.   


“So, Anastasia, what is Russia like? Why’d you come to America?” She turned in her seat to face Anastasia.   


“Well, Russia is nice. I’m from Saint Petersburg, which is full of rich people and even richer stores. It’s cold but I loved it there. I came to America because I wanted to move away and my parents didn’t want to move me to Japan. So, we came to America.” She shrugged.  


“So, you just  _ asked _ to move and your parents decide to move across the world?”  


“Well, no, my parents are--” Anastasia’s explanation was cut short by the teacher beginning to speak.  


“ So, welcome to your first day of high school, everyone!”  


 

Her second class was World History, there she met a girl named  Israel.   


“Isn’t that a place?” Anastasia’s brows furrowed together. Israel sighed.  


“Yes. It is. My parents went to Tel Aviv before I was born and ‘fell in love’ with the place. I’m like a fourth Palestinian, so it’s a dumb fucking name,” Israel rolled her brown eyes.   


“I think it’s pretty. I knew, like, seven Anastasias in Russia. My parents wanted to name me Hiroko, but it wouldn’t work with how Russians written. I’d be called Khiraka.  _ Ew _ ! That defeats the whole purpose of naming me after my grandmother.” Anstasia sighed as well.  


“I like Anastasia. It’s pretty. Have you ever heard of Ana--” Isreal started, but Anastasia cut her off. “Anastasia Romanova? Yes. Of course I have. I’m from Saint Petersburg, not the middle of Siberia. My parents also considered Yekaterina, after the city her  family  stayed in after the  Bolsheviks took over Saint Petersburg. But, my father  _ hated _ it.”  


Israel nodded. “My parents also considered India, but I guess they liked falafels more than curry.”   


Anastasia laughed. “I knew a girl names India when I was little. She got made fun of a lot and I think she moved to Moscow.”   


“ My sister’s name is Emily.  _ Emily _ ! And I couldn’t have been named like  _ Sarah _ or some shit?! Last year when we did a unit on the Holocaust, everyone looked at  _ me _ . Don’t get me wrong, I love the whole ‘naming after places’ trend, but I couldn’t have been named after a _ non _ -controversial country? Preferably not an active war zone? Name me like, Tokyo, or something. Somewhere that people wanna visit.” Israel sighed and laughed.  


Anastasia laughed too.  


 

Biology came after that, where Anastasia ran into the previously mentioned Brazilian boy, Joao. HE was boring and only talked about his piccolo. Anastasia was seated alone in that class.

 

Following her Biology class was gym. The whole class sat on the bleachers while the coach began reading the rubric and curriculum. Camilla was in that class, which made Anastasia thankful, as she hadn’t introduced herself to anyone and she really didn’t want to. The coach dismissed them to go change into their gym clothes, and while walking towards the locker room, Camilla caught up with Anastasia. “Hey, commie.” She laughed.  


“Hey! What’s up,” Anastasia smiled, walking up the stairs to the girls’ locker room. “Nothing. Classes have been boring all day, though. There’s this kid in my  H onors  M ath class that dumb as shit. I have no idea what teachers let him sign up for that class. What about you, you make any friends?”   


“Um, yeah, this girl in my History class. Israel.” Anastasia pulled her gym clothes out of her backpack.  


“Oh, Israel  Ali. She’s funny. We have Honors Biology together.” Camilla stripped her orange tank top off and slipped on a loose white t shirt with some cartoon character on it.   


“Other than her, no. I sit alone in my Biology class. I actually sis meet someone but he’s annoying and  _ really _ ugly. He’s from Brazil and since his first language is Portuguese, I already know that ESL chick is gonna, like, force us to hang out.” Anastasia put on her own white shirt, this time hers had a Nike swoosh on it.  


“Ugh, Miss Allison? I hate her. My friend had her in like, fifth grade.”  


“Camilla!” A girl called out. A blonde girl ran over to Camilla and hugged her. They started talking too fast for Anastasia to understand, but she could tell they hadn’t seen each other in a little while.   


“Anastasia, this is my friend,  Magda. She’s Ukrainian!” Camilla wrapped her arm around Magda’s shoulder’s. “Mags, this is Anastasia, she’s from  _ Russia _ !”   


“ I’m  _ half _ Ukrainian. My mother is from  Sevastopol , and my dad is from Chicago.” Magda clarified.   


“Do you speak Russian?”  Anastasia was excited! Finally, someone like her. “Um, yeah. I was raised speaking it, along with English. I visit Ukraine a lot to see my babusya and my didusa. And all my cousins of course.”  


Anastasia smiled. “I haven’t seen my babushka since I was really little, but I see my grandma on the other side of my family a lot. Have you ever been to Kiev?” The two girls started babbling on about different places in Ukraine and Russia, exiting the locker room.

 

Lunch was filled with Magda and Anastasia having pointless chatter in Russian about all sorts of things, from their favorite foods to their favorite movies.   


“Hey, listen, Slavs, how about we try to keep the Russian chatter to a minimum. I speak tortilla, not communism.” Camilla said, laughing.  


Anastasia snorted from laughing at Camilla’s joke.   


“Cuba is a communist country, puta.” Magda laughed.   


“It is?” Her face dropped.  


Anastasia and Magda laughed harder. 

 

The rest of the day flew by. Anastasia met new people in her French class, and had her math class with Israel and Camilla.   


Her after school activities included signing rubric papers, telling her parents all about her day, and practicing her skating.  


She went to bed late that night, after watching a movie. She woke u the next morning, ready to do it all again. 

**Author's Note:**

> DId you like that joke? About Cuba and communism? Yeah, Cuba is a communist country. It's not to the degree the Soviet Union was, but it is a communist country. 
> 
> Comment please :) Should I write more? Do you have any ideas for future fics? This took me a little while because I wasn't sure what I wanted to write. If you want to send a request or ask mw any questions, my tumblr is muutuski.tumblr.com (I don't know how to make it a link lol)


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